


The Suit

by mlp_buttons



Series: Inceptiversary 30 Day Challenge 2015 [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 30 Day Fandom Challenge, Community: inceptiversary, M/M, clothes!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlp_buttons/pseuds/mlp_buttons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Challenge Day 1: Favorite Character</p>
<p>This little mini-fic is for the 5 year anniversary of Inception (Inceptiversary)! Yay!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Suit

Eames looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was good-looking, that he already knew -- and the way the two men taking his measurements lingered just slightly longer than appropriate at various points of his body spoke volumes. He just didn't understand what all the fuss was about. _What was so great about Dior?_

Not that Eames had anything against expensive, well-tailored clothing. For example, he fully appreciated the way Dior hugged a certain point man's arse. The forger simply preferred to spend his money on different leisurely pursuits. Trousers where just trousers, after all. And if those trousers happened to come from a second hand store or were hand-me-downs from his grandfather so be it.

However, that certain point man was how Eames found himself in _Lord and Taylor's_ being fitted for a Dior suit instead of taking off on the next flight to Vegas in an attempt to spend his one day off in a more Eames-like manner. But, fuck it all, he just couldn't shake off that damned comment about how "tweed was a horrendous fabric and salmon pink was a color that would never be acceptable in polite society."

So, here he was.

Being fitted for a suit. A _Dior_ suit, for specificities sake.

Not an activity that the forger was particularly fond of as staying still was not his strongest area of expertise. More than once he was gently chastised by his tailor's assistants for shifting his weight from one leg to another, for trying to reach that _one spot_ on his back that itched, and for being generally distracting with his smarmy comments.

But, that was who Eames was. He was impatient when he wasn't working and fidgety even when he was. He was flirtatious and inappropriate during the best of times. He was a live-in-the-moment con-man. A gambler. He was also the best forger in the industry with a natural ability to imitate anyone. He was strong and smart. Educated -- even if he liked to down play that side of himself.

But, mostly, Eames was just trying to figure out what the fuck Arthur was on about with these damned suits. Shifting again, the forger waited as the tailors worked their magic.

***

_The Next Day_

***

Eames walked into the room to what could only be described as eerily quiet. He nodded politely to his coworkers as he made his way to his desk. Eames smirked to himself as he sat in his chair and switched on the laptop. He knew what he looked like today and had expected that exact reaction. Slowly, the other people in the room went back to their work. A tap on his desk and a low whistle made him look up into Ariadne's grinning face.

"Good morning, love. How may I help you?" Eames flashed his best smile as Ariadne handed him a cup of coffee.

"You look nice," Ari commented. "Special occasion?"

Eames didn't miss her mischievous eyes skipping over to the point man's desk.

"Not at all, dear." Eames knew Ariadne heard the comment Arthur had flung at him yesterday. (What offense tweed had done against the point man was still a mystery to Eames.) Ariadne's eyes sparkled with delight in the game.

They shared secret smiles as the day progressed when Arthur would not-so-subtlety interrupt the pair as they worked on a dreamscape or got caught staring a little too lingeringly in Eames' direction. As the day came to a close, the team began to leave one by one. Eames was deep into research regarding their current clients husband when a handful of files were slammed down onto his desk. Raising an eyebrow, Eames looked up into Arthur's eyes. "A bit aggressive there, aren't we darling?"

Arthur's frown deepened and he opened his mouth to say something before quickly closing it.

"Distracted, love?" Eames leaned back in his chair. Arthur pursed his lips. "Cat got your tongue? Isn't that what you Yanks say?"

Arthur cleared his throat and shifted his eyes away. "You look very nice today, Mr. Eames."

Eames smirked. "Thank you, love. I suppose there is something to Dior after - " Eames didn't get to finish as Arthur lunged at him and crashed their lips together. The forger barely managed to keep them upright as he opened his mouth to an accosting tongue. Wandering hands shed him of his jacket. Eames stood and pushed the point man back onto the desk as his tie went flying somewhere behind them.

"Fuck it," he heard Arthur mumble before he ripped open Eames' shirt, buttons pinging everywhere.

"Darling, I do believe you just ruined my only _Dior_ shirt," the forger nipped playfully at Arthur's jaw line, chuckling.

"I've wanted to do that all day," the point man gasped as Eames' nips became bites and kisses.

"Ruin my Dior shirt?"

"Yes. No. I mean..." Arthur said distractedly as his hands wandered over Eames' chest and stomach. "Fuck me."

Eames' kisses stuttered to a halt and looked at Arthur, whose eyes were filled with desire.

"Fuck me," Arthur murmured as he leaned forward to lick the forger's ear lobe. "Right here on this desk. Fuck me with your shirt open just like this." Arthur slowly pushed Eames' shirt as wide as he could without it falling off. "And your pants just like this." Arthur fastidiously undid Eames belt, unbuckled and unzipped his trousers. He pushed at the forger's pants and trousers just enough to free his erection.

"Trousers, love. They're called trousers," Eames gasped as one of the point man's hands began leisurely stroking said erection.

"Then fuck me with your _trousers_ just like this," Arthur said, the word trousers emphasized with a bite to the forger's neck.

"You have such a way with words, darling," Eames moaned as they resumed kissing.

"Fuck me, Mr. Eames."

So, he did.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm doing this fun challenge with my friend Xenrae, so make sure to check out her stuff too! She's the best. :)


End file.
